Since my rear-end collision in August, I’ve been without my car. Although the estimate was 1 – 1.5 weeks, it’s been in the body shop for over a month now. And we’ve been told 4 times now that the work was complete, each time only to find that, no, it really really wasn’t. Looking at the trend, I’m thinking it should be ready to pick up sometime between the 6th try and the 8th. Any bets?

After being somewhat under the weather most of the holiday weekend, I was in need of some fresh air. So after I got off work this evening, I took myself for a brief hike. The photos aren’t great, since I snapped them in a hurry (it didn’t seem a pleasant prospect being caught on an unfamiliar trail alone in the dark, so I was pushing quite a bit faster than I otherwise would), but they give a bit of an idea.

The trail follows a noisy stream for most of its short length; although the rhododendrons, poison ivy, and other undergrowth are so thick it’s often hidden from sight. All in all, it was quite a pleasant end to the day.

Yeah, what she said.

Let me tell you about my morning.  I have two psychotic cats (yes, I know all cats are psychotic by definition, but these are more so than most).  However, even knowing their psychotic nature, I had never previously had any undue concern about any murderous tendencies; or, more accurately, I felt fairly secure in my assumption that, even if they wanted to kill us, they wouldn’t be able to get sufficiently coordinated to do so, lacking opposable thumbs.  Now, I’m not so sure….

I have a drive-under garage, which serves as overnight parking for both my car and my felines.  One of them, some time ago, developed the habit of beating up the neighbor cats, so she’s confined indoors.  So, to prevent her from escaping when I open the garage door on my way to work, I usually let her upstairs into the house first.

Picture the scene.  I walk to the basement door, open it, and ask as usual if she’d like to come upstairs.  I hear silence for a moment, then the jingle of the bell on her collar.  Instead of next hearing the delicate tread of her soft paws on the stairs (read: herd of elephants), however, I hear a crash, then scrabbling and rustling of plastic for awhile.  Then silence again.  I start down the stairs.  It’s at this point that I realize my cats are trying to kill me:  there is a tripwire stretched across the stairs at just ankle height.  And a kite, which was previously stowed on the other side of the basement, is now over against the garage door, its string spool still lodged at its starting point.

I’m moving the pruning shears.

Music is really a strange thing.  It is to poetry what sculpture is to drawing.  It gives it form and shape and texture that simply cannot be captured in two dimensions.  It’s been pointed out to me recently that I have unusual tastes in music, and I suppose that’s true enough.  I definitely enjoy an eclectic range of styles, and while there are some styles that I gravitate to more than others, I daresay there is no musical genre in which I can’t find something of beauty.

What a person listens to says a lot about that person; it speaks of taste and personality and history.  My own history undoubtedly has something to do with my  musical tastes.  I am fortunate to have two parents with beautiful voices, and impromptu a capella ”oldies” like folk songs or Negro spirituals were common fare for any car trips.  My mother sang my brother and me to sleep each night to the sound of Peter, Paul and Mary, and I learned to roller-skate to her collection of 45′s.  My husband laments that she has warped me for life.

Most particularly, the songs that most draw me are those with lyrics that evoke a response, be it tears or smiles or laughter.  And vocal harmony has a strong attraction for me as well.  When both of those elements are combined, well, I’m going to be lost in the song for awhile.

Winter, spring
It’s what love can truly bring
Ice turns to water
Water flows to everything
You can lose your mind
Baby, then your heart you’ll find
I hope you won’t give up whats movin’ you inside

So if you’re waitin’ for love
Well it’s a promise I’ll keep
If you don’t mind believing that it changes everything
Then time will never matter

~ Jars of Clay, “Sunny Days”